


all we need is a little bit of momentum

by LugianBeforeSwine



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: F/F, Genderswap, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 11:46:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1225120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LugianBeforeSwine/pseuds/LugianBeforeSwine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takao falls in love with a waitress. As it turns out, the waitress plays basketball.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all we need is a little bit of momentum

**Author's Note:**

> So I watched that MidoTaka NG-shuu and uhh this happened. Also, I didn't change their first names because I'm lazy.

“I think I’m in love with her,” Takao sighs, resting her head on her hand as her eyes begin to glaze over.

“No you’re not,” Miyaji replies promptly, reaching across the table in an attempt to knock the besotted smile off her friend’s face. “You have seen her twice and have so far not spoken to her at all.”

“Silly Miyaji,” Takao says mildly. “We don’t need to have spoken. I’ve never felt this way before. It must be love.”

Miyaji sighs dramatically. “I don’t know why I indulge you like this.”

“Because you are a great friend,” Takao says, finally looking up to meet Miyaji’s eyes. “Anyway, we totally sat in her section today. I can feel it. I think she might have looked over here—oh God!”

“What, what?” Miyaji asks, craning her neck to look at the cause of Takao’s outburst.

Standing behind the counter, not more than five meters away, is the object of Takao’s affections. She’s looking at them, and she does not appear pleased.

Takao quickly darts her eyes away and ducks her head. “What’s she doing? Is she looking at us? Holy crap, I’m so nervous! Why am I nervous?”

Miyaji has found that all she is capable of doing in times like these is ensuring that Takao doesn’t make a complete idiot of herself. “Just relax, okay? Don’t you wanna talk to her?”

“Of _course_ I wanna talk to her!” Takao hisses. “But…well…she is kind of intimidating, don’t you think?”

Miyaji certainly agrees with that. The waitress that Takao has chosen to pin her ill-guided affections on is extremely tall, wears her long, green hair in a high ponytail, and sports a pair of glasses which seem to amplify her severe expression. She seems like the opposite of Takao’s usual type, and yet, here they are.

“She’s coming over here,” Miyaji says. Takao actually has the audacity to squeak. Miyaji just rolls her eyes.

The waitress glides to their table and stops in front of them. Her expression is the same. “Welcome,” she says in a stiff, formal tone. “My name is Midorima. I will be serving you today. What can I get for you?”

Miyaji can see Takao, who has only just lifted her head from the table moments before, visibly struggling with being so close to her stupid crush. She decides to save her friend any more embarrassment, and places both of their orders before Takao can say anything.

Midorima (which is just a perfectly lovely name, Takao thinks) does not carry a notepad. When Miyaji has finished speaking, Midorima pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose and says “Thank you. I’ll be right back with your drinks,” then turns and walks away.

“Miyajiiiii,” Takao whines after Midorima disappears around a corner. “I didn’t get to talk to her!”

“Gather your courage and say something when she gets back. Geez, you should be thanking me for saving your ass just now!”

Takao smiles. “Thank you,” she says. Then the smile becomes dopey. “Her voice is so pretty. It’s smooth, like glass.”

“Or ice,” Miyaji mutters.

\---

By the time they leave the small restaurant, Takao has managed to say “thank you” twice, and, in a surprise twist that Miyaji certainly did not see coming, even said “Have a good night” after they paid their bills.

“I don’t understand you,” Miyaji says casually as they walk back to their apartment building. “Why do you like her so much?”

“I don’t know,” Takao says honestly. “But now that we’ve spoken, I have no doubts. I think…I think we might be soulmates, Miyaji.”

“Oh, for—” Miyaji says, then cuts herself off by heaving a huge sigh. “You are hopeless.”

“Can we go back tomorrow?” Takao asks brightly.

“You can wait a little longer than that!”

\---

When Takao and Miyaji go back (a full three days later), the restaurant is crowded and they have to wait for a harried-looking server to seat them. Luckily, they end up at the table next to the one they had sat at last time, and thus, it is Midorima who stalks over to their table a few minutes later, looking rather stressed and more stern than usual.

She gives Takao a look before starting her little speech. Takao watches her, transfixed, and suddenly her eyes go wide, right as Midorima stops talking.

“We’ll have—” Miyaji begins, but Takao cuts her off.

“Do you want a hair clip?”

Both Midorima and Miyaji turn their attention to Takao. “Pardon me?” Midorima asks.

“Umm,” Takao says. “I just noticed, you have a piece of hair falling into your eyes, and—” she opens her purse and begins rummaging through it. After a few seconds she pulls out a handful of hair clips. “Well, I have a lot.”

Midorima stares at her for a second. Takao tries her best to look friendly and not like she’s going to die of embarrassment, which is how she feels.

Finally, Midorima says, “Thank you very much,” picks an orange clip out of Takao’s hand, and clips her hair back into place. “That hair was bothering me somewhat,” she says after a second, while Takao remains stock still.

“Right!” Takao says finally, beaming up at Midorima. “You’re welcome!”

There’s a moment of silence while Midorima holds Takao’s gaze, then Miyaji clears her throat. “Uhh, we’re ready to order, so—”

“Of course,” Midorima says instantly, snapping her eyes back to Miyaji. Takao’s own eyes remain transfixed on her face. It almost looks like she’s blushing a little, but that can’t possibly be true. It must be the lighting.

\---

When Takao next goes to the restaurant, she is by herself, and is more than a little terrified. Miyaji had had to work an evening shift today, but Takao does desperately want to go back, so she gathers her resolve and enters alone.

The restaurant isn’t as crowded as usual, and to Takao’s surprise, she spots Midorima at a table near the door by herself, eating a salad and reading a book.

Takao swallows down the lump of fear in her throat. This is her chance. She could get to have an actual conversation with Midorima—learn about her likes and dislikes, her family and friends, her hobbies, maybe even her first name—

Takao doesn’t realize she’s been staring until Midorima lowers her book and meets her gaze. “Hello,” she says simply.

“Oh!” Takao starts. “Hi!” She takes a couple steps forward. “Umm…could I sit with you?”

“If you’d like,” Midorima says, putting her book down.

Takao internally shouts in triumph. She slides into the booth across from Midorima and tries to calm her pounding heart. “Are you on break?” she asks.

“No,” Midorima replies. “My shift is over. We are allowed to have a meal after the completion of each shift.”

“Ahh,” Takao says elegantly. “So, umm,” she begins, but a waiter comes over and interrupts her.

“Whoa, Midorima has a friend!” he says, laughing uproariously.

“I fail to see what is so humorous about someone desiring my company,” Midorima sniffs, looking straight forward instead of at the waiter.

“Aww, c’mon, I’m just kidding,” he says, clapping her on the shoulder. She flinches a little, and then the waiter directs his attention to Takao. “Can I get you something, or did you just come here to chat with this loner?”

“Umm,” Takao says.

Midorima slowly turns her head and fixes an icy glare on the waiter. This is all it takes for him to step back.

“Easy, girl,” he says, still smiling despite the hint of fear. “What can I get you?” he says to Takao.

“Just a water is fine,” Takao says. To be honest, she’s pretty hungry, but she doubts she could eat while being this close to Midorima.

“Be right back,” the waiter says, and he turns and walks away.

“I have your hair clip,” Midorima says abruptly, and reaches into a bag at her side. She pulls out the clip and passes it to Takao. “Thank you for letting me borrow it.”

“You’re welcome,” Takao says, taking it from her. “It was no problem.”

“I also do not know your name.”

“Oh! It’s Takao Kazunari.”

“Takao,” Midorima repeats, and Takao nods. “I’m Midorima Shintarou.”

_Shintarou_. Takao smiles widely. There is a beat of silence, during which Midorima’s eyes seem to bore into Takao’s, and Takao has to make a conscious effort to control her heartbeat. Then the waiter returns with Takao’s water. “Play nice, you two,” he says cheerfully, and then leaves again.

“I cannot stand him,” Midorima says a moment later.

“Hey!” the waiter yells from behind the counter. “I heard that!”

Midorima doesn’t even look his way.

Takao bursts into laughter. Midorima is way too cute, and Takao has fallen way too hard, but there’s nothing she can do about that now. All there is to do is talk to the lovely person seated in front of her.

A smile replaces Takao’s laughter, and she sees Midorima looking at her curiously, as though she’s an exotic species which Midorima has never seen before. Then she smiles a little, too; just a faint upturn of the lips and a slight crinkling around the eyes, but Takao is smitten.

“So,” she begins, “when did you start working here?”

\---

As it turns out, Takao learns a lot of things about Midorima that day. She’s 22, the same as Takao, and lives in an apartment across from the restaurant, where she’s been working since she was 16. She reads her horoscope every day, and advises Takao to do the same. She enjoys playing the piano and reading. And best of all, she loves basketball, and used to play it in high school.

“No way!” Takao had said when she heard this particular piece of information. “I did too! I went to high school pretty far away from here, but I wonder if I ever played against you!” She feels as though she’d remember if she had, though; Midorima certainly is striking in appearance.

The pleased look that had graced Midorima’s face at Takao’s reply made her grin widely.

And this is why, the next time she enters the restaurant, Takao waits around by the door until Midorima spots her. And then she smiles.

Takao thinks she might melt into a puddle on the floor. Midorima is so perfect, and Takao is so hopelessly besotted—

“Are you going to sit down?” Midorima asks, coming to a stop a few feet in front of her.

“Actually,” Takao says, and she takes a deep breath, “I was wondering if you’d wanna meet me after your shift ends for some one-on-one?”

“…Basketball?” Midorima asks after a moment, sounding mildly incredulous.

Takao erupts into nervous laughter. “Haha, yeah, of course. Just for fun.”

Midorima is just about to reply when the obnoxious waiter from before saunters out of the kitchen. “Midorima!” he shouts. “What’s taking you so long?”

Midorima’s expression turns sour. “Very well,” she says quickly. There’s a brief pause, and then her face appears to color again. “Do you have a cell phone I could call to let you know when I’m off?”

“Oh!” Takao says. “Yeah, of course! Umm…” She casts around in her purse for a pen and paper, but Midorima quickly hands her a pen and notepad out of her apron pocket. The notepad is totally blank.

After Takao has written her number down, Midorima pockets the notepad and nods at her. “I will see you later, then,” she says, and hurriedly walks towards the kitchen.

“Bye,” Takao says weakly to her retreating figure. She feels as though she’s just won the lottery. Also as though her knees are going to give out. She exits the restaurant before she makes a fool of herself.

\---

Midorima is very, very good at basketball, and she knows it. She doesn’t show Takao any mercy, and although Takao manages to steal the ball from her occasionally and make a couple shots, Midorima has her beat by at least 25 points before Takao admits defeat.

“How do you make those three-pointers?” Takao asks, when they’re sitting on the edge of the outdoor court, sweating and panting.

“Training and skill,” Midorima says simply.

“They’re incredible,” Takao says. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

Midorima makes a vague noise of affirmation, seeming to consider something. Finally, she turns to Takao and says, “You played admirably as well.”

“Aww, you don’t have to praise me just to make me feel better,” Takao says, laughing.

“No,” Midorima says sternly. “I do not say things that I don’t mean.”

Takao is stunned into silence. “Well,” she says finally. “Thank you.”

“In fact,” Midorima continues, “I believe you possess a skill set which I lack.”

“What?” Takao says after a moment.

Midorima stands up and walks back onto the court. “Pass me the ball,” she says.

Takao stands up, retrieves the basketball, and passes it to Midorima, who catches it effortlessly, jumps, and scores. She nabs the basketball before it can get too far and passes it back to Takao. “Again,” she says. Takao passes, and Midorima executes another perfect catch, throw, and basket. The net makes that pleasing _swoosh_ sound four more times before Midorima speaks again.

“I think,” she says as she walks back to Takao, basketball in hand, “we would make a good team.” It almost looks as though it pains her to say this, but nevertheless, Takao’s heart leaps in her chest.

“Do you wanna play again sometime?” she asks hopefully.

“Of course,” Midorima says immediately, and Takao is completely certain that she is in love.

\---

It’s been five weeks since that night, and Takao and Midorima have been practicing together nearly every day. Today they are again on the court, but this time they’re joined by Miyaji and Kimura, another one of Takao’s friends.

Midorima is not a very sociable person, but she is polite enough, and Miyaji only elbows Takao a couple times while she thinks Midorima’s not looking, so all in all, their meeting goes pretty well.

As Takao had explained to Midorima prior to her friends arriving, Miyaji and Kimura were both extremely talented and were not to be underestimated. Midorima had simply scoffed at this.

“Do you have faith in our partnership?” Midorima had asked.

“Of course,” Takao had replied immediately, allowing herself to pretend Midorima had meant more with that word than just their teamwork in basketball.

“Then we will win,” Midorima had said simply.

Takao was only a little bit surprised that they did.

“That was a great game,” Kimura says afterwards, while Miyaji quietly fumes in a corner of the court. “Your shots are…well, pretty unreal.”

“Thank you,” Midorima says, then casts a quick glance to Miyaji. “Your friend does not seem to be taking her loss well.”

Kimura laughs. “Aww, she’ll get over it. I better take her back to her apartment before she does something rash, though. It was nice meeting you!”

“Yes, it was nice meeting you, too,” Midorima says.

After Kimura and Miyaji have left, Takao stands there, shifting her weight from foot to foot, while Midorima collects the basketball and begins walking back to her.

“You were amazing,” she says when Midorima is a few feet away from her.

“As were you,” Midorima replies.

“We work really well together, I think,” Takao says.

“Indeed, we do.” Midorima hands her the basketball. “I…err. I enjoy playing basketball with you, Takao. You are unlike anyone I have encountered before.”

Takao’s eyes widen. Midorima almost looks nervous, and it’s just too cute to be fair, really, and what a great compliment to receive, especially coming from someone as talented as Midorima, and then Takao remembers that she should reply. “Umm, thank you. And I’ve certainly never met anyone like you.” It’s true both on and off the court. Takao hopes Midorima catches that full meaning.

“Yes, well,” Midorima says, and she’s definitely blushing, and it’s just so adorable that Takao can’t resist—she drops the basketball at her side, leans up on her toes, and plants a kiss on Midorima’s cheek.

The enormity of her action doesn’t sink in until Midorima turns wide eyes on her, her fingers lightly touching her cheek.

“Oh God,” Takao says. “I’m sorry, Midorima, I just got caught up in our win and everything, and we’ve been, well, we’ve been spending a lot of time together and we’re friends, right? Of course we are,” Takao mutters, mainly to herself. “It doesn’t have to mean anything, okay? I’m sorry.” She’s still staring into Midorima’s shocked expression, and is at a loss for what to do, when Midorima finally speaks.

“If you’re going to kiss someone,” she says, blushing an even deeper shade, “you should do it properly.”

Takao is stunned into silence for a moment, then she grins widely. “Of course,” she says, beaming. “Of course, you’re right.”

Takao leans up, and Midorima meets her halfway. When their lips finally meet, Takao thinks her heart will explode with happiness. This is what she’s wanted all along—to really get to know Midorima, to become friends, to have the potential to become something more. And apparently, Midorima wanted that with her too. That knowledge makes her practically delirious with joy, which is why the first thing she says when they draw away from each other is “Can I call you Shin-chan?”

“I beg your pardon?” Midorima asks, but her tone is tempered by the fact that she’s still blushing and smiling a little.

“Shin-chan,” Takao repeats. “You know, a nickname. I think it’s very fitting!” She beams up at Midorima, who purses her lips.

“I suppose,” she says after a moment. “Only because it’s you, though,” she adds quickly.

If that isn’t the sweetest thing Takao has ever heard, she doesn’t know what is. “Hooray! You know, you could call me by a nickname, too, if you wanted.”

Midorima wrinkles her nose. “I’ll pass, if that’s all right with you.”

Takao’s grin turns cheeky. “If you won’t call me by a nickname, will you at least give me another kiss?”

Midorima rolls her eyes. “You don’t have to present me with an excuse,” she says, before leaning down again.

Takao can feel Midorima smiling into the kiss, and she can’t recall a time when she’s ever been happier.


End file.
